Words
by JakOvsumTrade
Summary: Sometimes, words aren't the right words to say. Sometimes, broken hearts are here to stay. Post-Hogwarts, canon compliant.
1. Part I

AN: This story will have three chapters and all should be fairly short. I was going to make it a one shot at first, but I decided to split it up, allowing me to publish what I have completed before finishing the whole story. Just a note, though, I'm not so good at romance.

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Disclaimer: I do not own **Harry Potter** , obviously

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 _Well the first time that I saw her,_

 _Standing in the middle of the road,_

 _Eyes as bright as christmas lights,_

 _Wearing someone else's clothes,_

 _I did my best to ignore her,_

 _But ignoring my best pretty soon,_

 _We spent the night all tangled tight,_

 _In an armchair in my friend's front room. - Words, Passenger_

* * *

It's been three years. Exactly three years. Three years since the Battle of Hogwarts, since the fall of the darkest wizard in centuries. Three years since the deaths of so many. Too many. Some were friends, some passing acquaintances, and others enemies. But one thing they all shared was that they died valiantly for what they believed in.

This is what Harry Potter, the Hero of Hogwarts, kept telling himself as he stared at his reflection in the mirror. He didn't feel like a hero, and he sure didn't look it. While not as scrawny as he was in his youth, it was clear Harry Potter would never be the largest of men, at just barely five foot six. His hair was still a mess, jet black strands standing up every-which way, and his green eyes were still just as bad. Though he had finally gotten replacement glasses, thank Merlin.

But Harry was no longer as self-conscious as he once was, and he actually kind of liked his wild, untamable hair. No, what he wasn't so keen on wasn't his features, but his clothes. The finely tailored dress robes were extravagant, far too much gold threading. And the gemstone buttons weren't helping. They were also unwieldy, and kept getting in his way. They were heavy, gaudy, and made Harry feel like a Malfoy. He was just about to go and change them out for his red Auror Robes, he had taken to wearing them even off duty, when he got a jarring reminder of why he was wearing those tacky robes in the first place.

"Come on, Harry, or we're going to be late."

Oh, right. After three years, the Ministry was finally having a ceremony to commemorate the victors and honor the fallen. Harry didn't begrudge Kingsley for taking so long to get everything organized, after all, the ministry was a mess after Voldemort's short reign and Shacklebolt did well for the situation he was in. Far better than any other minister Harry had known. He just wished he didn't have to go, and instead spend the night alone in his room, quietly contemplating The List. It was so long, and there were still names he had not gotten to yet. But Ginny would not let him. She said he was brooding, being no fun. That he had an obligation to everyone to go and say a few words, at least.

"Yes, dear," was what Harry said, but what he wanted to say was, "Screw obligations, I've done enough to earn myself some privacy." He does understand, though. it wouldn't quite be a tribute to the Battle of Hogwarts without its Hero there. But just because he understood didn't mean he had to like it. Harry wished someone would understand that, but it seemed as though no one had understood him for as long as he remembered.

Ginny took his arm and grabbed a belt buckle in her other hand. She spoke the trigger word of the portkey, 'Remembrance', and in a flash, they disappeared from their home of Number 12, Grimmauld Place, to a grand ballroom already packed with people. The ballroom was in the new Ministry building, this one much more secure and efficient than the last. At least one good thing came from Voldemort.

As Ginny drags him around, greeting this Lady and that Lord, Harry looks around for faces that he knows, faces he remembers from before. There are many in the crowd, but most he can't recognize at first. He'd seen very few in the past three years, and the last time he had seen the rest, they were exhausted and covered in blood. All of his other memories of them are of children, and no one could rightly call one of the survivors of the Battle 'children'. Harry thinks he sees Lisa Turpin and Terry Boot in a corner, snogging. The Patil twins are leaning against one of the walls, looking at the crowd with unreadable faces. Apparently, things weren't so great with them. It turns out that the bigotry in Magical Britain was more than just about blood.

Harry is distracted from his musings by the shaking of his arm and the calling of his name. Turning his attention back on the present, he pushes the Patil's troubles out of his. There was nothing he could do to help them there. It was Ginny who was pulling his arm, and pointing towards two very familiar faces approaching. The ones calling his name were none other than Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. It has been a while since Harry had seen his best friends, and he was a little excited to catch up. Hermione had taken up a job in the ministry as an undersecretary for Kingsley. Harry knew she had been busy writing and ensuring the success of many bills through the bigoted mess that is the Wizengamot. Ron had decided against being an Auror, and had instead gone to play professional Quidditch, competing against his sister who was drafted by the Harpies. With him as Keeper, the Chudley Cannons were finally winning.

As Hermione and Ron approached, Harry noticed that they walked hand in hand. Upon looking closer, he spotted a faint glimmer coming off of one of Hermione's fingers. Well, that was unexpected. Harry knew they had been dating, but he was sure it wouldn't last, they were just too different. Incompatible. But, what did Harry Potter know about love. 'The power he knows not' and all that shite.

"Hey, Harry, Ginny, it's so good to see you."

"Thank you, 'Mione, you too."

"Yeah, it's nice to see you guys again. I do believe some congratulations might be in order?"

Hermione and Ron looked at each other, slightly confused, and then turned to Ginny. Harry was worried he had misinterpreted greatly and made some sort of faux pas, but then Hermione seemed to realize what he was talking about.

"You're talking about our engagement, right, Harry?"

"Um, yeah, I thought that was the right thing to say. Isn't it?"

Hermione looked a little flustered, while Ron and Ginny seemed even more confused, "Well, yes, it is. But usually you say it when you hear about the engagement, not months later."

"Months later...?" Oh, yes, now he remembers. One day, while he was checking his post, Harry found a strange letter that definitely did not belong in the pile of his business letters. They were all about the most dangerous wizards still out there, but this one had hearts and flowers on it. He burnt every single letter just to be safe. The next time he got one just like it, he burnt the entire week's mail.

"Yeah, mate," Ron seemed to finally understand and now felt comfortable contributing, "We must've sent you hundreds of letters. When you didn't respond, we thought you didn't support us and so we were just not gonna bring it up."

"Sorry, I, uh, must not have gotten them. Maybe my mail has been tampered with. I'll be sure to check when I get back."

Clearing that up seemed to lift something from the young couple's shoulders and their smiles were much brighter now than when they first saw Harry. That misunderstanding must have been tearing them apart. Before anyone could open their mouths to move the conversation onwards, the sound of a knife hitting a champagne glass rang through the ballroom, clearly aided by a sonorous charm. Turning his attention towards the small dais on which stood podium and the Minister of Magic himself, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Harry begins to feel a deep trepidation as Kingsley's eyes fell on him.

"Ladies and Gentleman, today we honor the living and the dead, the heroes and heroines who bravely fought in the last stand against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Three years ago today, the final defence made up of students, vigilantes, and Aurors together faced the most terrible Dark Lord in centuries, definitely the most terrible in British history. Now, three years later, we come together to offer our respects to all those who fell, and celebrate the wonderful victory of those who survived. There is one among the survivors who especially responsible for the fact that we may gather here today. Would you please put your hands together and give a warm welcome to Harry James Potter, the Hero of Hogwarts."

Harry knew he didn't want to go. It's a wonder he didn't ace Divination, his hunches were never wrong.

* * *

After cursing Kingsley a few times for putting him in the spotlight, Harry actually gives a pretty good speech hiding behind his mask of the Golden Boy. Though if that was because of his jokes or his awkwardness, Harry really wasn't sure. Damn it, there was a reason he didn't go into politics. Before he went up, Ginny told him that she wanted to catch up with her brother and future sister-in-law some more, and not to wait up for her as she would probably head over to the Burrow for a family night. Why Harry was not invited to this family night, he wasn't quite sure, but that was fine. He didn't particularly want to go to the Burrow anyways. He didn't think he could deal with Molly's coddling. Mollycoddling. Wonder why it took me so long to realize that.

Harry spots Neville pushing through the crowd, making his way towards him. Once he was close enough, Neville clasped him on the shoulder and pulled him with him away from the main congregation, all the while talking, "I saw Ginny, 'Mione, and Ron leave earlier, probably headed to the Burrow. I think they have the right idea of it. I hate this place, and I hate these people. I organized a little get together and Longbottom Mansion. There aren't going to be many there, but I thought you might like it better that way. Mostly just people from the DA. It would mean a lot to them if you came, but after this, I'd understand if you didn't want to."

Harry shook his head and grinned conspiratorially at Neville, "Of course I'll come, I hate these people as much as you. Besides, the DA would be lost without me."

Neville laughed, and Harry could see in the far off look in his eyes that he was reminiscing, "Yeah, what would we do without our fearless leader?!" Still shaking his head and laughing softly at all the dumb things they had gotten up to in the past, Neville led Harry outside of the Anti-Apparition Wards. They apparated side-by-side, not side-along, thank Merlin, to Neville's ancestral home, Longbottom Manor.

There were already quite a few people there, all of whom Harry knew personally, some of whom he even kept in touch with. The Patils were there, this time not on the outskirts, but talking to Michael Corner and Anthony Goldstein. Lee Jordan was with the old trio of Gryffindor Chasers, Katie Bell, Alicia Spinnet, and Angelina Johnson. Hannah Abbott, Susan Bones, Justin Hyphenated-Name-Fletchley, and Ernie Macmillan were forming another group in Neville's large living room. There were some other people about, but before Harry could identify them all, Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas spotted him and Neville and came close to talk.

While it was true that Harry wasn't as close with Neville, Seamus, or Dean as he was with Hermione or the Weasleys, it's hard to share a room with someone for seven years without becoming good friends.

"Look who showed up!"

"We were worried we wouldn't get to see you!"

Harry was about to respond, but an unmistakably dreamy voice beat him to it, "Why would you be, Dean Thomas? I told you he would come." Turning over his shoulder, Harry was pleased to see he was right in his guess as to the owner of the voice. The lithe blonde leaned closer to him and whispered, "The Dabberblimps told me earlier. Hello, Harry Potter."

He couldn't resist a smile as greeted one of his best, if newest friend, "Hey, Luna, how are you doing?"

"Well, Harry Potter. Oh, it seems like your friends have left." Sure enough, when Harry looked around, Neville, Seamus, and Dean had indeed disappeared. They must have been incredible fast and stealthy for you not to have noticed them go. Luna had only said one sentence.

"They're your friends too, Luna. Everyone here is your friend, you know that, right?"

"Of course, Harry Potter," She smiles up and Harry, her eyes looking past his shoulder, that dreamy smile of hers slipping slightly, "of course they are."

It was quite obvious that Luna did not believe that the people here were really her friends, and it was hard for Harry to argue with her, seeing as how even Neville, one of the most understanding and considerate guys he knew ran away from her, "Well, I know that I'm your friend."

This time, Luna's smile brightens instead of dims, and Harry's heart skips a couple beats at the intensity of her smile. In a way, he can't really blame the others for being intimidated by Luna Lovegood. Her casual detachment from the world around her is slightly off-putting, and when someone manages to make eye contact with her, those blue-grey eyes of hers seem to stare right into their soul. Her fanciful creatures and random non sequiturs don't exactly win her any points, and the times she says something relevant, it is usually much past social norms and tact. But still, she's got an air about her that's just... liberating. The only person around which Harry gets a similar feeling is Ginny, but he's not very comfortable with that comparison, and so puts it out of his mind.

As they talk, slowly the living room clears up as the guests clear out. Neville had gone upstairs with Hannah hours ago, and no one really wanted to go check on them. Susan, who had come with Hannah, just left a note before she left with Ernie, bidding everyone a good night. Soon, it was just Luna and Harry. Alone.

They talked for hours, deep into the night, lighting candles with weak igniting charms with which to see by. They talked of all sorts of things, from Heliopaths and the Rotfang Conspiracy, which according to Luna was weakening after Fudge's loss of office, to Harry's most recent case and the most dangerous spells he's had cast at him. After he tells Luna about one that was supposed to turn all his blood into acid, she makes a game of coming up with the most creative ways to kill people. A little reluctantly at first, Harry joins in, eventually deciding his favorite method is conjuring something really big inside one of the cavities in a person's body. Luna's was far more creative, the little witch deciding that altering all of a person's senses to feel pain is the worst thing she can come up with on such short notice. Harry decided that she was the clear winner, and to never get on the bad side of Luna Lovegood. Ever.

It isn't quite clear how, and even after using a pensive and meditating for hours Harry still doesn't know what happened, but the next thing they know, their tongues are tangoing, mouths moving in sync. Their bodies are right up next to each other, Luna straddling Harry, each doing their best to to snog the other so hard they run out of air. Luna's hands are running through his messy hair, and Harry's hands are running up and down her back, getting steadily lower. Then he's shirtless and her omelette-yellow dress is hiked up to her upper thighs. But all of the heat, the passion, the burning energy between them, it's all gone.

Harry stares at her for a while, and for once she meets his eyes, looking nervous. They don't speak, don't move, just stare. Luna leans in a little closer, tilting her head up, but Harry can't. He turns away, eyes downcast. She won't give up that easily, not this time, not now. Luna grabs his head and turn it back to face her, kissing him deeply, passionately. He starts to return the kiss before her gently pushes her off and stands, starting to pace.

"I'm sorry, Luna," Harry says as he turns towards her, the defeated look in her eyes will forever more haunt him, "But I can't do this. Not to you, and not to Ginny. I'm sorry."

Luna looks at him, tears forming at the corners of her eyes. As Harry tries to move closer, trying to comfort her, she shuts them tight and shakes her head. She quickly pushes herself off the coach they had been sitting on and runs out of the room. She's so distraught, he can hear the _CRACK_ of her apparating home outside. Figuring he should go too, Harry leaves Longbottom Manor and apparates to Grimmauld Place.

Even after all these years, it is still just as dark and gloomy as it was when he first saw it, back when Sirius was alive. There was probably some spell on it, making it that way. As Harry climbed into bed, he knew he was in for a long night.


	2. Part II

AN: This took too long, I have no excuse. The next chapter was already done and waiting, this one eluded me. Also, just so you know, I don't really like Harry/Ginny pairings, and this story is definitely a one of in that sense.

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Disclaimer: I don't own **Harry Potter** , obviously.

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 _Oh and the next time that I saw her,_

 _Must have been a year or more,_

 _Face stained with mascara,_

 _Shivering outside my door,_

 _I did my best to assure her,_

 _But assurance isn't easy to give,_

 _If you've never been sure of anything much,_

 _And get less so the longer you live. - Words, Passenger_

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It has been almost two years since the memorial ceremony, and things were finally going well for Harry Potter. It seems his time as Fate's punching bag had ended, and life was finally going to go his way. Or so he thought. And every time he has thought that so far, a sucker punch came out of nowhere and hit him where it hurts.

He was all alone in number 12 Grimmauld Place, Ginny was away. The Quidditch Cup took her far, all the way to Italy, and while Harry wished he could have gone with her, his job as Head Auror offered no down time. Evil never rests, and as long as there are laws, there are those who would break them for power. How he missed Quidditch. The thrill of flying, while nowhere near that of fighting for your life against deranged dark wizards, was still something that could not be replicated by any other means.

He also missed Ginny. He hadn't seen her for two weeks and wouldn't see her for another month, at least. While not a particularly long amount of time, it was the longest they had spent apart since their engagement. That had been quite an event. The engagement of the Boy-Who-Lived was splashed everywhere by the media, and many had been very vocal about their opinions. So vocal Harry had had to appoint himself Auror guards for whenever he left his house.

Ginny felt it best to have two parties, a small private one, and a large public one. The public one was open to everyone, and was actually a fundraiser for Saint Mungo's. The private one was invitation only, which were given to certain friends from Hogwarts and key Order members. There was one person whose absence from both the parties was felt particularly strongly by Harry.

Luna Lovegood. On one hand, he sorely wished she had been there. He had really wanted to talk with her, apologize for that time at Longbottom Manor. On the other hand, he was very thankful she had not shown up. That girl confused him, and not in the way she confused other people. When Luna was around, Harry wasn't quite sure he didn't want to take her hand and just leave everything behind.

It wasn't right, and Harry knew that, but just because something is not right doesn't mean you don't want it. And Harry did want Luna, of that he was fairly certain. He loved Ginny, and every day they spent together made him want to marry her even more. But there was something tantalizing about the moon. A shining brilliance that reflects the whole world's beauty. Harry knew he shouldn't think like that, but he couldn't help himself.

Just as he started wishing for some company to help him get through the paperwork of his latest case, a tapping came from the front door. As Harry approached, he noticed that the rapping had gained a rhythm and was sounding out Beethoven's _Moonlight Sonata_. Almost not wanting to open the door and stop the symphony, Harry turns the knob and pulls, revealing the one person he had hoped most would show up, and yet had nightmares about talking to. In all her glory, there stood none other than Luna Lovegood.

"Hello, Harry Potter."

She spent the whole day with him. Helping him read and sign all the paperwork, making tea for their little break, keeping his spirits up with casual chatter, at ease the entire time. It was as if she could not feel the same tension he felt in his shoulders, and yet still knew how to massage it out. He finished in record time, and they spent the rest of the day in the living room, sitting on the loveseat, sipping rooibos.

"I wish to apologize for that time two years ago, Harry Potter."

"No, no," Harry shook his head, he couldn't accept that, "You have nothing to apologize for. It was my fault, I shouldn't have allowed it to happen. I've wanted to apologize to you ever since, but I couldn't find you, which is quite a feat, seeing as how I'm Head Auror, I should be able to find anyone, it's sort of national security, and if I couldn't find you who else could I not find-"

"You are mistaken, Harry Potter." Luna sharply cut off his rambling, putting her finger on his lips in a shushing motion, "I am not sorry that it happened. I'm sorry for not taking it further, I'm sorry for not pushing harder when you resisted, I'm sorry that I ran, and I'm sorry that I had not done it sooner. I don't want to be sorry anymore."

And she kissed him. But not like the kisses from two years ago. Those were hot and wild, a mix of desperate and seductive. Those kisses were obvious in their need, and took what they wanted with an overwhelming passion. This kiss was slow and sweet, tentative and nervous, yet in a way, even more passionate. What those kisses had in tenacity, this one made up in tenderness.

It did not take long for them to move to the bedroom, and even less for them to lose their clothing once they were there. Soft caresses became trails of hard nails, leaving red marks. Gentle strokes became rough gropes, filling the air with moans. And not once did either think that what they were doing was wrong. Falling asleep with his arm around Luna, pulling her in close as she rests her head on his chest, just felt so right.

But as the morning rays woke him up, he was alone once more, and what he had done finally hit him. Why couldn't it have just been the mailman ringing the doorbell?


	3. Part III

AN: I was thinking that maybe, if people want, I'll do a sequel series, something where Harry goes back and tries to figure everything out while he still can, before it's too late. Personally, though, I'm sort of glad this is over. I didn't really like the ending I wrote, but I couldn't write it any other way. This is a perfect example of a story that should have stayed in my head.

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Disclaimer: I don't own **Harry Potter** , obviously

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 _And the last time I saw her,_

 _Standing in the pouring rain,_

 _Hair a little shorter,_

 _But everything else looked the same,_

 _I could've told her that I adored her,_

 _She could've said she felt the same way,_

 _But we just smiled cos sometimes words,_

 _Aren't the right words to say,_

 _We just smiled cos sometimes words,_

 _Aren't the right words to say. - Words, Passenger_

* * *

Another seventeen years have passed. Fifteen years ago, Harry's first child, James Sirius Potter was born, named after the father Harry never knew, and the godfather he lost the opportunity to have known. The second child followed a year after, Albus Severus Potter, a boy who was fortunate that his parents looked at initial acronyms, unlike those of his father's godfather. The last child, and only daughter of Harry James Potter and Ginevra Molly Potter née Weasley, Lily Luna Potter, was born almost twelve years past. Her father spoiled her, and all knew that though he loved all his children greatly, she was his favorite. His little Moonflower.

Watching her board the train for Hogwarts was the proudest and saddest thing Harry had ever witnessed. He wanted to hold her, keep her for himself, never let the world get to her. But he knew that was not right. It was not what she wanted, it was not what Ginny wanted, and it is not what Luna would have wanted. Keeping this in his head, Harry could almost believe it, even though he was quite sure that last one was a lie. It didn't matter now. The past could not be changed. Could not be erased.

Luna Pandora Scamander née Lovegood was an awkward topic of conversation in the Potter household. She was once a great friend of both the elder Potters, but neither had seen her for nearly two decades. Naming their daughter after her was probably not such a good idea in hindsight, especially when little Lily became curious about her name having never met a Luna. Harry tried his best to explain to his children the strange, charming, and brave soul that was Luna Lovegood, but his mind would always be drawn to their last two interactions and he would leave the house, heading for a pub.

Ginny said she'd go make sure the kids settle in on the train, shaking him from his thoughts and bring him to the present. Watching the redheaded witch board the train after their children really made Harry think about what he had and what he could have had. Not that he was ungrateful, or even unhappy. He loved Ginny, he knew that for sure. And he loved all his children. But Luna would never leave his mind.

Harry looked around the platform, lying to himself that he wasn't searching for a hint of silvery-blond hair and stormy-grey eyes. It didn't take him long, that sort of hair color was not very common. Apart from the Malfoys, whom he was civil with if not friendly, there was no one else that matched the description. She was standing with her husband, Rolf, and one boy who must be their child. Catching his eye for a second, she sends Rolf with the boy onto the train. Seeing as how their spouses were away, Luna and Harry move towards one another.

"Hello, Harry Potter."

"It is nice to see you again, Luna." For a while, they just stand there, in silence, waiting for the other to talk first. Harry decided to be a Gryffindor, and took the first step, "I had heard you got together with Scamander. I'm glad, you seem happy with him."

She nodded, "I am."

"Your son is going to be quite a heart-breaker when he grows up. I saw he inherited your hair."

"Yes, Xenophilius Harry Scamander is my heart and soul."

Knowing she had named her son after him did funny things to Harry's insides. Of course, he had named his daughter after her, but he did not expect her to do the same. Then again, Luna had always acted in odd and unpredictable ways. Harry was trying to find the proper response, as she was clearly expecting one. While she does always say last names, Harry had not heard her mention someone's middle name before. Luna wanted him to know. But really, what could he say or do? They were both married now, happily so, and talking about their kids! In the end, Harry decided there was nothing he could say.

Turning to give Luna a soft, sad smile, he sees she's giving him the same. They hadn't had the best relationship, and it wasn't a love story they would tell their grandchildren about, but the feelings they had for each other never truly died.

No matter how much they tried.


End file.
